Family Affair
by Daeleniel Shadowphyre
Summary: AU, Severitus Challenge 01: Voldemort threatens to destroy everything the world holds dear. To protect his son and the woman he loves, can one man give up all he holds dear... to another?
1. Prologue

**Title:** Family Affair

**Author:** Daeleniel Shadowphyre

**Feedback:** darkone2813 at mindspring dot com

**Fandom:** Harry Potter

**Genre:** Angst/Drama

**Rating:** R (Maybe only PG-13, but R is safer.)

**Summary:** July 31, 1984. Voldemort is at the height of his power. A child, conceived the son of a Death Eater and his beloved, is born. To protect his son and the woman he loves from the man he called 'master', the Death Eater gave up the love of his life to another man. Fifteen years later, Voldemort is back. Time is of the essence, and what a lone boy needs the most is the support of the father he never knew he had.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter, Severus Snape, Remus Lupin, or any other characters created by J.K. Rowling. I'm just borrowing them, and I hope they're still recognizable when I'm done. The words spoken by James, Lily, and Voldemort at the end are, for the most part, taken directly from book three, Harry Potter and the Prizoner of Azkaban by J.K. Rowling. Also, the heretofore unmentioned first names of several staff members were taken from kaz's story Falling Further In.

**Notes:** Written for Severitus's Challenge. I have no other excuses, Your Honor. Also, thank you, Severitus, for the option of using the conversations you provided; I did not, but they were somewhat inspiring. With regards to the dates, in this fic's universe Harry was born in 1984, received his scar in 1985, entered Hogwarts in 1995, and turned fifteen in 1999. Yes, I am aware that this may not be canonical, but let's face it. This fic was bound to be AU from the start. If there are those of you who don't like that, you can stop reading. The dates are important the way they are, for specific plot-related reasons. And no, I'm not telling what they are. Rest assured that I go by the canonical dates in most of my other fics.

**Distribution:** Ask, and ye shall receive.

**Prologue:**

_October 31, 1985_

_Godric's Hollow_

Lily Evans Potter looked tenderly down at the black-haired baby she held in her arms. He was more than a year old now, hardly a true "baby" anymore, as James was fond of pointing out. James…. The two of them had been best friends for years, ever since their Hogwarts days. It was still strange to think of being married to him now, even though it had been nearly a year and a half since their wedding day.

_Oh, my love… it should have been _our _day._

"You know, he looks a lot like his father," James said from just above her, peering down at the baby his fr- _wife_ held in her arms. Lily cast a glance up at him, her emerald-bright eyes only slightly mocking, and James grinned. "You know, without the illusions."

Lily smiled up at her best friend turned husband, then returned her gaze to the baby. "I know," she said softly. The little boy shifted in his sleep, curling closer to his mother, and both adults smiled.

"He has your eyes, though, Lil," James went on. Lily bit her lower lip, apprehension gnawing at her.

"The spells… the ones that made him look… like this. They will wear off eventually, won't they."

"Fifteen years from now, or thereabouts," James confirmed. "At least, that's what Remus said; you know we can trust him to know these sorts of things."

"The letters… the ones explaining about…."

"Written, sealed, and sent to Albus for safe-keeping."

"And Sirius…?"

"Alright, as far as I know. I still don't know why he was so insistent we use Peter for our Secret Keeper."

"Trying to protect us, you know that. He's a good godfather to Harry," Lily said, looking up at James. "You've been a good father to him, Jimmy."

"Lil," James started, but Lily held up her hand to forestall the words she knew he wanted to say.

"James, we all knew what we were doing back then. It's safer for him if Voldemort doesn't know the truth about Harry." She looked down at the little child, tufts of ink-black hair lying against the tiny forehead. "It's safer for all of us," she whispered. Perhaps if she repeated it enough times, even she would begin to believe it. Perhaps then it wouldn't hurt so much…

_CRASH!_

The glass of the front windows of the house shattered under a fierce blow. Lily and James jerked upright, James automatically drawing his wand. "Voldemort."

_How?_ Lily thought, _How could he have found out--_

"Peter!" she gasped. "Oh, no, James!"

Lily looked up at her husband, clutching Harry to her chest. The baby woke and began to whimper as Lily absently tried to sooth her offspring. James looked down to meet Lily's eyes. Then his glance slid to Harry. Lily caught her breath; James looked upon the child with sorrow, anger, fear, and lastly a calm sort of acceptance. He straightened, gripping his wand tightly.

"Take the baby and run," James said, his voice sounding almost hollow.

"James…?" Lily peered up, her eyes pleading.

"Lily, take Harry and go!" James shouted, his voice fearful, but determined. "It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off--"

He was already moving towards the door, stumbling over furniture. Lily leapt up, glancing about wildly for a way out of the room. The sound of a door bursting open had her whirling around, staring after James. Chilling, high-pitched laughter filled the room, and Lily shivered. She knew that voice, though she had hoped never to hear it again in her life.

She heard James shouting, but she could no longer make out the words. Spells, she knew, to try and keep Voldemort back. To give her time to escape with Harry.

_Oh, beloved, James is willing to die for a child that isn't his!_

A flash of green light illuminated the hallway and Lily screamed. _James!_ Panic flooded her veins, and she rushed to the window. Harry was almost howling now, and no amount of soothing would possibly calm him. _Yes, little one, howl for my best friend and for your father… Oh, God, I'm so sorry!_

Lily placed Harry carefully on the window seat to free her hands. She pulled at the latch, trying to open the window far enough to let her slip through with Harry. Risking a glance outside, she saw a crowd of dark-robed figures milling about on the lawn.

Death Eaters.

Lily whirled around, searching frantically. Her eyes landed on the door and she screamed again. _Voldemort!_ Pale as death, with the eyes of a serpent that glowed a demon red.

"Where is the child?" the monster hissed, that high-pitched voice sending shivers down Lily's spine. But the words--

"No," she whispered hoarsely, moving to stand between the Dark Lord and the crying child. "No! Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!"

"Stand aside, you silly girl," Voldemort commanded, those demon eyes boring through her to the baby beyond. "Stand aside, now…."

"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead, just spare Harry--" Lily cut off with a scream as she felt a curse strike her. The Cruciatus curse, she knew, though her mind was torn to shreds by the agony that beset her. Only one thought could claw it's way up through the pain: _Harry!_

"Not Harry!" she screamed, knowing that tears were running down her cheeks. She sank to the floor, no longer having the strength to stand as the pain racked her body in waves. She could hear Voldemort's foul, mocking laughter over her voice as she screamed and pleaded… "Please… have mercy…."

_I will protect my son!_

"Have mercy…."

_I love you, Severus…._

"_Avada Kedavra_."

To be continued…


	2. One

**Title:** Family Affair

**Author:** Daeleniel Shadowphyre

**Feedback:** darkone2813 at mindspring dot com

**Fandom:** "Harry Potter" series, by J.K. Rowling

**Genre:** Angst/Drama

**Rating:** R (Maybe only PG-13, but R is safer.)

**Notes:** Please reference the prologue for the summary, disclaimer, and any other relevant information.

**Distribution:** Ask, and ye shall receive.

**Chapter One:**

_July 31, 1999_

_Hogwarts, Headmaster's Office_

Professor Albus Dumbledore glanced up at the calendar on his office wall and sighed. He knew what day it was, and it wouldn't change just because he had looked at the calendar for the eighth time that morning. Still, it was a little hard to come to grips with. Fifteen years. Of course he had known who Harry's parents were before he'd ever come to Hogwarts, but… that had not made it any easier to watch as Harry grew up without the father he needed.

Nor was it easy to watch Severus go through those long years without his son.

Frowning, Dumbledore stood and crossed to a mirror that had been spelled to act like a window. The sunlight outside was reflected back to him from the glass, but it did not match his mood. He had received a report from Arabella Figg regarding Harry's current situation with the Dursleys, and he was _not_ happy. Never mind that Vernon and Petunia Dursely had never been two of his favorite people. No one should treat a child the way Harry was treated. Clearly, something had to be done, and soon. But what?

With a sigh, the Headmaster of Hogwarts turned away from the mirror/window and returned to his desk. His eyes fell on a piece of parchment resting there, and his lips twitched in amusement. He supposed that he would never know how it had gotten around to all the students in such a short amount of time, but there it was. A petition to reinstate Remus Lupin as Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts. He picked it up and reread the list of signatures, smiling fondly.

Hermione Granger's name was at the top of the list, just above Harry's own name. Beneath the two of them was a list of no less than nine Weasleys, Molly and Arthur and all of their offspring. From there, the list went on to include Oliver Wood, former Gryffindor Quidditch team captain, and Penelope Clearwater, Lee Jordan, Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas, Terry Boot, Colin and Dennis Creevey, and just about every student in the school. Dumbledore had even had the delight of seeing young Draco Malfoy's name on the list, although few other Slytherins had signed.

Near the tail end of the list was Hagrid's name, followed by the names of other professors at Hogwarts. Sybil Trelawney, Artemis Sinistra, Freja Hooch, Poppy Pomfrey, Minerva McGonagall, March Flitwick, Ceres Sprout, and - at the very end of the long list - Severus Snape, scrawled in his almost spidery handwriting. Dumbledore's smile broadened. As much as Severus tried to deny it, the young Potions Master was a touch fond of Remus. He had proven so only two years earlier when, having been informed of Remus's appointment to the position, Severus had responded dryly that he had better look up the recipe for the Wolfsbane potion before anyone came to harm. To any other person, that statement would not have signaled any type of fondness… until one realized that Severus had not immediately protested the admittance of a werewolf to the teaching staff. But then, Remus Lupin was not just any werewolf. And he and Severus had a certain history between them that was not insignificant.

With a sigh, Dumbledore set aside the parchment and turned to another considerably less pleasing roll. The message was from the current Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge. Behind the mask of strictly political politeness, the man was asking what Dumbledore was playing at getting Arthur Weasley so worked up, that You-Know-Who was dead and gone and wasn't coming back, so why was Dumbledore making so much fuss over nothing? The old wizard frowned at the parchment; Fudge always managed to sound as if he were whining, even on parchment. The fact that the bumbling fool wouldn't acknowledge Voldemort's return even when it was right in front of his face was a source of considerable annoyance. Although it had been rather rash of Severus to abruptly and openly display the Dark Mark in the Hogwarts infirmary….

Harry had seen it, Dumbledore was sure. There was no way he couldn't know about Severus's past now. Well. That was probably all to the good, considering the facts of not only Severus's past, but Harry's own that the boy had yet to learn. Dumbledore had received Remus's owl only that morning, reminding him that the illusions the younger wizard had placed on Harry fifteen years ago would begin to wear off today, and that the boy had better be told, and soon. Remus was rather protective of Harry, especially since he was one of the few people to know the truth, the others having been Dumbledore himself, James Potter, Lily Evans, and Severus. That Sirius Black, as the boy's godfather, had not been included in this minor "conspiracy" of sorts was both a blessing and a hassle. He would not only have to be told, Dumbledore mused with a faint smile, but sedated to keep him from tearing Severus apart with his bare hands!

That brought Dumbledore back to the main problem-- what to do about Harry's current situation. It was more than obvious that Harry could no longer stay with the Dursleys, but where to send him? Dumbledore found himself toying with the idea of Harry staying at Hogwarts for the summer. The old wizard wondered just how many of the staff members would object to having a student among them for the rest of the summer. Minerva might protest that such things were against the rules, but Dumbledore knew that the stern Professor of Transfiguration had a soft spot for the boy, as did many of the Hogwarts teachers. Even Severus, although he would be hard-pressed to admit it to anyone, even to those who knew the truth.

_Especially Severus…._

Yes, that was another point that needed attention. Dumbledore knew that Harry had to be told, but was Severus ready for the responsibility that would place upon him? He had been protecting Harry ever since the boy had come to Hogwarts, and Dumbledore fancied that it must pain the Potions Master to act as if he hated the boy. He never asked, however, and Severus never volunteered personal information unless he could not avoid it.

Just as Dumbledore was about to get up and go in search of him, Severus himself walked into his office.

"Ah, Severus!" the older wizard beamed. "Delightful of you to stop by. Would you care for some tea?"

"No, thank you, Albus," Severus replied, his tone the faintest bit stiff, his gaze wary.

_Oh, dear. Remus must have owled him a reminder as well. He never looks that formal unless we are discussing Harry._

"Well then," Dumbledore sighed, trying not to look or sound too disappointed, "to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?" _About as unexpected as the sun rising in the East._

"I am certain you know very well why I am here," Severus said, his voice as dry as autumn leaves. "My son turned fifteen today."

Dumbledore blinked in surprise. It was rare indeed when Severus referred to Harry as his son. Usually he did not do so unless there were no other witnesses to overhear him, and even then only when he was pressed. Then the aged wizard took note of the bleak look in the younger man's eyes, the tensing of his shoulder muscles, and understood.

"You are concerned for him, then?" Dumbledore asked quietly, not wanting to alarm Severus into denial. That would not do. He was not disappointed, as Severus gave a slightly bitter laugh and averted his eyes to Dumbledore's bespelled mirror.

"The illusions will begin to wear off now, or so Lupin tells me," the Potions Master answered in a somewhat hollow voice. "He is… bound to notice a difference in the way he looks."

"Quite so," Dumbledore murmured, then brightened. "Which is an excellent reason for him to spend the remainder of his summer here at Hogwarts!" Seeing Severus's alarmed look, he amended, "Well, one reason out of several others. I had been considering the notion when you entered."

"I would think that the other professors would object to having a student here for the summer," Severus remarked frankly.

"Do you have any serious objections?" Dumbledore asked interestedly. Severus grimaced.

"Another thing; Black will have to be informed, and I'd rather it be done from a distance," he said, then added wryly, "I'm rather fond of my head, and would not wish to lose it to Black's inevitable fit of pique."

"I will tell him myself, being as there was a letter left in my care for him," Dumbledore responded, nodding. "To return to the topic of conversation-- Have you any strong objections to Harry's spending the summer here?"

Severus's face shuttered.

"The circumstances regarding my feelings toward both the boy and the question at hand differ rather drastically from those of my colleagues," he said stiffly. Dumbledore simply looked at him, and finally Severus sighed. "Yes, I do. There is the matter of--" he broke off and gestured to his forearm where Dumbledore knew the Dark Mark to be burned into the young wizard's flesh. When Severus spoke again, it was with a haunted, quiet intensity that Dumbledore had only once before seen in his Potions Master-- on the night he learned of Lily's death. "I will not put the boy at risk like that."

"Severus," Dumbledore spoke with a quiet intensity. "Have faith. You have protected Harry thus far quite well, despite the odds that were stacked against you. We shall manage."

"If you so believe," Severus responded softly, almost like a prayer. Dumbledore found a part of his mind wondering if the young man he considered a son had ever prayed before in his life. For that moment, Severus was not the stern, cold Potions Master that haunted the Slytherin dungeons, but a worn and weary man who had seen more heartache in his thirty-seven years than anyone ever needed to know. Then Severus shook his head; the moment was broken and Severus was in control again. "Well," the black-haired wizard said at length. "How soon do you wish me to go and retrieve him? I assume that was what you intended when you suggested that my son spend the rest of the summer on school grounds?" One eyebrow was raised in an ironic half-challenge, which Dumbledore ignored.

"I had thought that you would be the one to bring him, yes," the old wizard admitted, nodding. "As for when, well, the sooner the better. Before the middle of next week, certainly." Severus frowned; he knew as well as Dumbledore that the middle of next week was in only four more days.

"Forgive me, Albus," Severus began silkily, and Dumbledore thought that this squirming uncomfortable feeling he was experiencing might be just how the students might feel under the Potion Master's cold gaze. "But I was under the impression that Harry would be safest with those Muggle relations of his. Was that not the reason he was placed with them in the beginning?"

"It was," Dumbledore replied levelly. He would not be intimidated by one of his former students! "Circumstances change, I regret to say. That 'haven' is no longer the safe placement it once was. I have only recently become aware of how much that is the case," he added, more to himself than to his audience of one. Severus gripped the arms of his chair, white-knuckled, though it was the only outward sign he gave that he understood precisely what Dumbledore meant.

"I see," he replied. "Very well. I will leave on the Hogwarts Express the day after tomorrow and return with the boy that evening. I assume all will be ready by then?" Dumbledore nodded, and Severus stood. "Then with your permission, Headmaster, I will take my leave."

"One other thing, Severus," Dumbledore said with some amusement as the Potions Master turned to regard him with a wary eye. _He's a suspicious lad still._

"I have just received an interesting piece of post this morning," he went on, holding up the petition. "A request for Mister Lupin to be reinstated as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor this coming term."

"Indeed." Severus's expression gave away nothing.

"There are quite a number of signatures," the old wizard continued, a gleam in his blue eyes. "Some rather interesting."

"Really?" The former Slytherin was almost drawling, now. Dumbledore gave up, smiling fondly.

"Go on, Severus," he said in amusement. "I'm sure you have much to do."

"Ye-es," Severus drawled, his tone as dry as autumn leaves, "and a batch of Wolfsbane potion to brew so as to be ready for when Lupin arrives."

With those words, the tall, imposing young man swept out of Dumbledore's office with all the dignity of a young lord, leaving the Headmaster to laugh quietly to himself before returning to his - tediously irritating - paperwork. Much was left to be done before Harry's arrival at Hogwarts for the rest of the summer.

Much to do indeed.

To be continued…


	3. Two

**Title:** Family Affair

**Author:** Daeleniel Shadowphyre

**Feedback:** darkone2813 at mindspring dot com

**Fandom:** "Harry Potter" series, by J.K. Rowling

**Genre:** Angst/Drama

**Rating:** R (Maybe only PG-13, but R is safer.)

**Notes:** Please reference the prologue for the summary, disclaimer, and any other relevant information.

**Distribution:** Ask, and ye shall receive.

**Chapter Two:**

_July 31, 1999_

_Hogwarts, Potions Lab_

Professor Severus Snape entered his personal potions laboratory with a vague sense of disconnection. He wasn't sure why, but that interview with Albus had struck him in an odd way. It left him feeling slightly... managed. And he wasn't quite sure why.

With a sigh, he moved towards his personal stores and began removing the ingredients for the Wolfsbane Potion. An entire school year of brewing the potion had ingrained the recipe into his memory, but still he went to his records to look it up. Severus would not allow the impact of his interview to interfere with his potions brewing.

_Harry..._

Severus paused, his hand on the jar of asphodel, then sighed and stood, asphodel in hand. Remus Lupin had owled him the previous evening with regards to his son, who was turning fifteen that very day. In the owl, the werewolf-wizard had reminded him about the genetic illusions that masked Harry's true parentage. Those illusions would begin to wear off now. Severus had no way of knowing just how many changes would take place in Harry's appearance, but he was reasonably certain that the difference would be significant. And there would be questions. Oh yes, there would _undoubtedly_ be questions.

Dread was slowly working its way from the pit of Severus's belly up his spine to the foremost of his mind. It was not Black's reaction to the news that had truly unnerved Severus, although that reaction promised to be rather spectacular. No, it was really the myriad of possible reactions he could get from Harry himself that troubled Severus. The reactions that dominated in his imagination -- the ones he secretly feared most -- were those of anger, of hatred, and of disgust. Severus had never given Harry a reason to think anything of him other than as an insufferable bastard that delighted in tormenting him. Perhaps Severus had done too thorough a job of putting distance between him and his son.

He scowled. He'd rationalized his ill-treatment of the boy in so many ways, it was hard to tell where truth ended and the lie began. He was protecting Harry from Voldemort; well, that one had just been unraveled by Albus a short time ago. He hadn't gotten over Lily's death-- never mind that Lily had been dead for ten years by the time Harry was accepted to Hogwarts. Harry looked too much like James Potter, an argument that had been struck down just as soon as Severus had remembered Remus's genetic illusions. He refused to allow himself to participate in the cosseting and worshipfulness of the entire world towards the boy-- so he had taken it to an extreme, he knew. He wanted to offer a reality check for his son, that the world didn't bend to his will as it obviously did at home-- Severus clenched his eyes shut against the memory of just what Albus had implied truly went on in that Muggle house; he was afraid that if he thought about it, there would be precious little to stop him from hunting down the Dursleys and he could not promise that one of the Unforgiveables might not be used.

And there, again, was a hint at the true reason behind Severus's almost frantic attempts to push his son away-- he really had no idea how to be a father. Merlin knew his own father had never set a good example! Certainly Austerus Snape had done a phenomenal job of demonstrating what _not_ to do to one's own children… and it had been that very example that Severus was so afraid he might unwittingly follow. So afraid that he had almost succeeded in convincing himself that his own son would be better off living with Muggles.

With a flick of his fingers, he lit a fire beneath the large black cauldron near his worktable. The Wolfsbane Potion would require a carefully maintained heat and twelve hours of scrupulous monitoring. He needed to get started right away if he wanted to still have time to both pack and get a decent amount of sleep before embarking on this mad rescue attempt. Severus smirked-- if he wasn't careful, he just might start acting like a Gryffindor!

_Well, it might not be as bad as all that…._

That was yet another thing that was difficult to fake-- his "hatred" of Gryffindors. For Merlin's sake! Lily had been a Gryffindor, as had Remus. So had James, though Severus still carried a spark of bitterness towards the man. And now, his son had followed in Lily's footsteps into Gryffindor. Once again, Severus silently cursed the Fates for delivering him into this painful situation and this masquerade he had to play.

It was an awkward situation, certainly. For the most part, Severus had little trouble playing the role of the slimy Potions Professor, especially during classes. But there were times when it was deuced hard not to slip up. There had been that Saturday back in the Fall of 1997, when he had delivered Remus's Wolfsbane Potion and had found Harry in his office…

_Severus knocked on the door, the pewter goblet containing the fresh batch of Wolfsbane Potion in his hand. Severus spared a moment to worry about the fact that the goblet was smoking, but shook it off quickly; it was supposed to do that, and he knew it._

_"Come in," Remus called through the door. Severus pushed open the door and entered, the goblet held out before him. He stopped short when he realized that the werewolf was not alone._

_Harry sat in a chair across the desk from Remus, holding a cup of tea in his hand. He was staring at Severus with such a wary expression that the Potions Master felt his chest tighten painfully before he succeeded in shoving the emotion down. He could not afford to let anything slip. Not now. Oh, why was he here, in Remus's office? For that matter, why was Severus?_

_"Ah, Severus," Remus was saying, pulling the Potions Master back to the moment. "Thanks very much. Could you leave it here on the desk for me?"_

_Oh, right. The potion. Severus set the goblet down onto the corner of the desk, looking from Remus to Harry and back again. Harry still looked wary, and almost alarmed. Remus, on the other hand, was smiling warmly. Those large brown eyes were looking at him with such compassion and understanding that he had to force himself not to look away. The look sent a flicker of alarm through Severus, however well-meaning it was. What had Remus been talking to Harry about before he had arrived?_

_"I was just showing Harry my grindylow," Remus answered his unspoken question. He pointed towards the tank, but Severus didn't look. Memories of a time long ago were assaulting him, here, with Lily's eyes staring out of James's face, and Remus in front of him, so understanding..._

_"Fascinating," said Severus, pleased that his voice had not come out as a croak, though he knew Remus could tell exactly what was going on inside his mind. He went on hurriedly, shoving the memories away for the time as he said, "You should drink that directly, Lupin."_

_"Yes, yes, I will," Remus said. Severus knew he understood the sudden use of his surname as an address. He went on, doggedly, trying desperately to not let Harry's presence get to him._

_"I made an entire cauldron full, if you need more," he said, then suddenly realized just how much of a clue he was dropping about Remus's condition. And in front of Ha- one of the students, no less! The question was, would he figure it out? No, of course not; Severus had long since learned that humans had a tendency not to see what they had no reason to look for._

_"I should probably take some again tomorrow," Remus said, seemingly unconcerned about his guest overhearing this exchange. The werewolf met the man's eyes, and a silent understanding passed between them, so like the one they had shared fourteen years before. "Thanks very much, Severus." The Potions Master knew that while his former schoolmate's words referred to the Wolfsbane Potion now cooling slowly on the desk, his eyes offered sympathy for the torment this encounter must be -- _was _-- putting Severus through. Remus knew. He felt the same._

_"Not at all," said Severus, forcing his voice to remain steady and not betray the pain that constricted his throat and made it so hard for him to breathe. He backed out of the room, eyes never leaving Remus and Harry. As the door swung shut after him, he let out the breath that had caught in his chest and tried to collect himself on his way back to the dungeons._

_He was still shaking by the time the first of the Slytherins returned from Hogsmead._

Severus could not suppress a flinch as the two-year-old memory called up other memories, many from that same year. The dementors' presence at Hogwarts had taken their toll on him in those long months, and he was... ashamed, somewhat, of his seemingly erratic behavior during that schoolyear. Guilt, too, gnawed at him for betraying the promise he had made, both to Remus and to Albus not to reveal the nature of Remus's condition to the students. In a way, it was Severus's fault that Remus had resigned, though his former schoolmate had assured him that he was forgiven. Severus still wondered how Remus could always be so quick to forgive when Severus could not.

_I can hardly forgive _myself

With a growl, the Potions Master resumed his task of brewing the Wolfsbane Potion. Brooding on the past, on whatever memory, was not helping to move things along. "Twelve bloody hours," he muttered to himself, grimacing. Without a doubt, he would have to put some serious effort into refining the potion over the summer. Hm. He would have to discuss the matter with Remus when he arrived.

His resolve set, Severus began to brew the Wolfsbane Potion. If he was lucky, he just might be finished before dawn.

To be continued...


	4. Three

**Title:** Family Affair

**Author:** Daeleniel Shadowphyre

**Feedback:** darkone2813 at mindspring dot com

**Fandom:** "Harry Potter" series, by J.K. Rowling

**Genre:** Angst/Drama

**Rating:** R (Maybe only PG-13, but R is safer.)

**Notes:** Please reference the prologue for the summary, disclaimer, and any other relevant information. I would like to add that, contrary to popular fan fiction fashion, there is little to no canonical evidence of the Dursleys having been physically abusive, aside from Dudley's bullying. As convenient and well used as the idea is, it _is_ stretching things somewhat and so will not be used.

**Distribution:** Ask, and ye shall receive.

**Chapter Three:**

_July 31, 1999_

_4 Privet Drive, Smallest Bedroom_

Harry Potter stared fixedly out the window of "his" room, watching as the last light faded from the sky and the sun went down on his birthday at last. Once again, the day had passed unremarked upon by the Dursleys, for which Harry was glad. The less attention he drew to himself, the better. His uncle had been increasingly irritated ever since Harry had come back from Hogwarts for the summer holidays. Whatever it was that had caused this, Harry didn't know and, from the way his uncle glowered at him, he wasn't sure he wanted to know. Not like he didn't already have enough to brood on as it was.

The end of the Triwizard Tournament loomed at the fore of his mind, taunting him cruelly as he replayed the scenes over and over. Cedric's death was always first, the subject of many nightmares that woke him violently in the night, always a hair's breath from screaming. He never did, though; he didn't want the Dursleys to have anything else to hold against him. He hadn't told them anything that had transpired that year, but he doubted they would feel any sort of compassion to know that he was haunted by the memories of that day. His fault. The death of an innocent. And it wasn't always Cedric that was killed in his dreams. Sometimes the deceased Hufflepuff boy was replaced by Ron or Hermione. Or Sirius. Logically, he knew that hadn't been the way, and that no one really blamed him for Cedric's death-- well, a few Hufflepuffs might, but Harry expected that. And it was not his fault! But the nightmares persisted, with Cedric's eyes staring up at him, dead and accusing. The flash of green light that had played so often in his nightmares before this. And that high, cold voice repeating those three words.

_"Kill the spare."_

Harry flinched as the words echoed in his ears, seeming for a moment as if they truly had been spoken aloud. But no. He was in the smallest bedroom of 4 Privet Drive, protected from the Death Eaters by the wards Headmaster Dumbledore had set so long ago, and Voldemort was nowhere near.

Voldemort. It was the name that struck fear into the hearts of most of the wizarding world. Harry still blamed himself for the Dark Lord's return, despite his friends' assurances that he was not at fault. Ron, Hermione, Sirius... they hadn't been there when Peter Pettigrew had cast the spell to resurrect his master. They couldn't know. And perhaps it was foolish to try and protect them, but Harry hoped they never found out. He knew that his friends and godfather were worried about him, but... well. He couldn't tell them he was fine; that was a lie, and they'd know it. He also couldn't tell them what went through his head every night, about the nightmares and the self-blame and... everything. They wouldn't... _couldn't_ understand. And the part of Harry that wanted desperately to protect what innocence his friends had left and to keep his godfather from putting himself in more danger because of him was glad of that.

The rest of him, however, wished desperately for someone -- _anyone_ -- who knew and understood his pain that he could talk to.

A soft hooting drew his attention from the window to the corner, where Hedwig sat in her cage, patiently waiting for her master to let her out for the night to hunt. Harry smiled fondly at his owl, the only friend he really had here. The snowy owl turned her head to look at him sideways, ruffling her wings slightly. 'You can talk to _me_,' she seemed to be saying. Harry sighed and crossed to the cage, undoing the latch and opening the door.

"I know I can talk to you," he said as Hedwig inched her way out of the cage and over his hand to his arm, where she closed her talons ever so carefully to perch there. "You might not understand, but you won't pretend. And you won't try and send me to St. Mungo's, either, I bet." Hedwig hooted once in agreement, and Harry grinned.

_Better not let the Dursleys catch me talking to an owl as if she can understand me, or I'll have worse things to worry about than St. Mungo's..._

Biting his lower lip, Harry crossed to the window again, Hedwig balancing on his arm, and wrenched it open. The cool night air hit his face as he leaned out, stretching his arm far enough out the window for Hedwig to launch herself into the sky. Harry stared after her until she was nothing more than a tiny white dot against the blackness of the night sky before he ducked back into the room and returned to his bed. Hedwig would be back in two hours, unless she decided to stay with Hermione for a day or two.

The thought of his friend brought a sad smile to Harry's face. Hermione had no owl of her own, so Hedwig and Ron's owl, Pigwidgeon, had taken it upon themselves to act as her correspondence deliverers. Harry shook his head. Ron had had Pig for over a year now, and the tiny owl had yet to calm its erratic, jittery behavior. How the little runt had made peace with Hedwig -- who seemed to look upon Pig as a disruptive interloping youngster -- and for the two of them to cooperate, the boy surely didn't know, but for Hermione's sake, he was glad.

_Merlin take it, this is just too much to deal with at fourteen!_

Harry flinched and mentally erased that statement. In one case, it sounded too much like whining for his comfort, and the other... well, he wasn't fourteen anymore. The stash of cards and presents under the loose floorboard beneath his bed was testimony enough of that. Acting on impulse, Harry ducked under the bed and pried up the board, dragging the bundles up to his bed again. He'd looked at them all when they'd been delivered at 12:01 that morning and was still amazed at them all the same.

From Hermione, he'd received a book, which was to be expected, but this book was on transfiguration and illusions. Harry had leafed through it, curious, and had gotten the impression that it would be _very_ useful to get some time to himself to read it. Even more useful if he could find someplace shielded where he could try some of the spells. The likelihood of either circumstance presenting itself to him before term started was next to nothing.

Ron's gift had apparently been combined with the twins' gift, a carved cedarwood box with a false bottom. The immediately visible contents were the newest products in Fred and George's joke shop; the false bottom contained birthday cards and well-wishes from Ron, Fred and George, Ginny, Mr. and Mrs. Weasely, and even missives from Bill, Charlie, and -- oddly enough -- Percy. A separate parcel from Mrs. Weasely contained cookies and sweets of several types, all distinctly wizardly in make. Harry was deeply touched by both gifts, even though the cedar reminded him uncomfortably of Cedric; he wasn't quite sure why.

To Harry's surprise, there had been a package from Sirius and Remus, with whom Sirius was supposed to be hiding out. It contained a strangely shaped shallow dish, which, upon closer inspection, had proved to be a dragon scale. The scale was from an Opaleye dragon hybrid, or so Sirius said, and had been found at the edge of the woods around the cabin Remus was living in. Harry picked up the scale again, marveling at the pearly quality of the inside of the scale and the harder, iridescent jewel-like substance that coated the outside. He'd have to remember to show it to Charlie Weasley some time; his textbook had said that Opaleye dragons were found in Australia.

Reluctantly, Harry set aside the scale and turned his attention to the last two presents in the stack. The first was from, of all people, Oliver Wood, a full poster of the Appleby Arrows that had been autographed by the whole team. Harry unrolled the poster again and felt that tiny surge of pride again as his eyes sought and found Oliver's own signature on the poster. Glancing at the picture, Harry grinned as the miniature Oliver waved at him and winked. He hadn't had time to miss the former Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team the past year, especially not after--

_You're hopeless, Harry. You know that, right?_

Feeling decidedly uncomfortable, both at the direction his thoughts had taken so quickly and at the fact that he was talking to himself, Harry carefully set aside the poster and picked up the last present with equal care.

It was an oval box made of redwood and shaped more like an even-sized egg than a box. The wood had been polished to an almost glow, and had no doubt been spelled with magic to preserve the shine. The lid -- and there was a lid to the odd little box, a smaller oval of the same curve as the "egg" set in the exact center of side that Harry assumed was the top -- was trimmed in rosy copper, the same metal having been used in an inlay of delicate flowers around the longest points. On the center of the lid was a single flower of the same type as the design.

A lily.

Harry felt the tears prick at his eyes as he gazed at the little box. With one finger, he carefully traced the curves of the lily's petals, stem, and leaves, then dropped his hand to cradle the box more securely. There had been no note to accompany the box, but something instinctive had told Harry that the flower set in the wood of the box was as much an identification of the owner as it was a decoration, and that it had once belonged to his mother. And from what he knew about metals from his schoolbooks, he guessed that it had been given to her by someone who loved her very much.

With a quick, jerky movement, Harry wrenched his glasses off his face and set both them and the box down in front of him on the bed. With the world blurred and unfocused so that all he could discern in the faint twilight was the subtle play of light and shadow, Harry let go of his restraint and let the tears come. He cried for his parents, for his friends, for Cedric and his family, for Mr. Crouch and his wife, for Crouch's Death Eater son, for everyone who had ever died at the hands of Voldemort and his followers, for Sirius who was on the run because of Pettigrew's betrayal, for Remus who was cursed to live almost in exile for something he could not control. And he cried for Professor Snape, who even now was playing the role of spy in Voldemort's circle, risking his life with every second in the hopes of gaining information to give the side of Light an edge over the Dark wizard. His arm came up mechanically and he reflexively bit into it, muffling any sobs that might fight their way to the surface; no reason for the Dursleys to ever hear him and learn that their despised nephew had a few weaknesses after all.

How long Harry sat in the darkness, the tears streaming down his face, he would never be able to recall. But as the flow gradually slowed to a trickle, then stopped completely, he became conscious of someone -- or some_thing_ -- staring at him. Harry tensed, but when he extended his senses a little more, reaching with something inside him to 'look' at the presence, he was reassured by the aura of 'friend' it gave off. Unclenching his teeth from around his arm -- _Oh, boy, I'm probably going to have a bruise from that..._ -- he took several deep breaths and scrubbed his face dry with the sleeve of his pajamas before his hand sought and found his glasses and placed them on his nose. At once, the room leapt into focus and he turned his head to look for the source of those staring eyes he'd felt.

It was an owl. Had Harry been standing, he would have staggered with the combination of relief, fear, and annoyance. That last startled him a little bit, but he shrugged it off, telling himself that he'd analyse it later. Instead, he swung his feet to the floor, stood slowly so as to be sure that he wouldn't topple over, and crossed to the owl to greet it and untie the letter he could see bound to its leg. The owl swiveled its head to look at him and hooted once, softly, in greeting. Harry smiled and stroked a finger down the tawny bird's chest before his hand fell to the letter. He made swift work of the ties that secured it and then gestured to Hedwig's food and water dishes. The owl spread its wings, dipped them once in thanks... and then lifted itself into the air and soared out the open window.

Blinking, Harry stared after the retreating owl, feeling a funny sense of deja vu. Then he turned his attention to the letter and frowned slightly. The letter bore the insignia of the Ministry of Magic, which was ominous enough, yet the fact that it had been delivered at night by owl and directly to him instead of through the regular muggle post the next morning made it seem all the more sinister. Whatever the Ministry had to say, it was obviously important, secret...

...And personal.

A shadow fell across Harry's face and the frown turned to a scowl. Tossing the letter on the bed, he crossed swiftly to the door of his room, put his ear against the wood, and listened carefully. Silence, and the sounds of his uncle snoring from down the hall greeted his ears. That meant that his aunt and uncle were asleep, and who cared where Dudley was? It wasn't like his cousin would care if Harry was awake after all. Feeling a bit justified in this, Harry returned to the bed. After digging around under the floorboard, he retrieved a wide candle and a matchbook. Setting the candle on the floor, he struck a match and touched it to the wick. In the resulting orange glow, Harry extinguished the match and picked up the letter, seating himself cross-legged on the floor next to the candle to read it.

_Dear Mr. Potter-_

_Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, has requested permission to assume guardianship of you for the remainder of the summer. Naturally, this request has been thoroughly reviewed, and..._

Harry's scowl deepened as he continued reading. The idea of going back to Hogwarts for the rest of the summer sounded terrific, but the entire tone of the letter was so... pompous! Cutting his eyes down to the bottom of the letter, his scowl turned to a grimace. It figured any correspondence from Fudge would sound so... full of it? Harry had hardly had a good opinion of the Minister of Magic after his third year, and that opinion had only dropped since. With a sigh, Harry returned to where he'd left off in the letter and continued reading.

As he read, he felt his fury growing within him at Fudge's blatant condescension and undisguised self-satisfaction. The Minister expressed his doubts as to the safety of the school, hidden beneath veil of gratingly polite comments on the lack of proper security-- after all, that criminal Sirius Black had managed to get past the defenses with seeming ease and escape just as easily. It annoyed Harry no end to read that carefully-worded pseudo-polite letter, all the time feeling his teeth begin to ache as he ground them together.

_...and after thorough review of the castle's security and additional measures suggested to the good Headmaster, the Ministry has reluctantly decided to allow you to return early to Hogwarts and spend the rest of the summer there, should you so choose. You are advised to send a reply to Headmaster Dumbledore, notifying him of either your acceptance or your decline. Should you accept, a professor of Hogwarts will arrive in two days time to collect you from your Muggle relatives._

_Signed,_

_Cornelius Fudge_

_Minister of Magic_

_Order of Merlin_

When he'd reached the end of the letter, Harry found he could only sit there and simmer in his fury with the man. Coldly, before he really registered his actions, he stretched out the hand holding the letter and touched the parchment to the flame of his candle. It caught instantly, and he watched with mild detachment as the parchment curled around the edges, turned brown, then black, and was shortly reduced to ash. As the flames crept closer to his hand, he dropped the remaining scrap onto the candle where it was quickly consumed.

Trembling with rage and a hint of fear at what he'd just done, Harry leaned back against the edge of his bed and let out a long breath. So Dumbledore wanted him back at Hogwarts for the rest of the summer. On the one hand, it meant that he wouldn't have to stay with the Dursleys, but on the other hand, he'd bet that he wouldn't be going to the Burrow, either. Harry felt a momentary pang -- he missed Ron and the twins and Ginny, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and even Percy -- but he ruthlessly squashed it. With Voldemort back, he'd undoubtedly orient on Harry as the prime target, and Harry did _not_ want to put his friends in danger like that. At Hogwarts, he would be well protected, if not entirely safe. He couldn't guarantee his own safety, much less the safety of those he cared about.

Harry frowned slightly, thinking. Fudge was an idiot, and didn't like to have his authority questioned. He was easily susceptible to suggestion if that suggestion came from a "reliable" source. _Like Rita Skeeter, perhaps?_ Harry's scowl returned with a vengeance; it cleared, however, when he remembered Hermione's outwitting the gossipy reporter. He had no love for the woman, but no true hatred either, and it made him feel a bit better that her punishment -- such as it was -- wasn't particularly harmful to her. Physically, anyway.

That didn't make him feel any more charitable towards the Minister of Magic. Harry was beginning to realise, the more time he thought about it, that he had surprisingly little patience for incompetent fools, Fudge in particular. He chuckled at that, though bitterly. _Poor Ron,_ he thought. _He's going to hate the fact that I'm growing up._

_Not half as much as I hate it, though._

Well, at least this was a good solution to his dilemma. He really didn't want to stay with the Dursleys, despite the protective wards around the house. And yet, when he'd received Ron's invitation to stay with the Weasleys for the rest of the summer, his first thought had been to refuse. In retrospect, Harry wondered if that had been his first step towards growing away from his friend of four years. Then he chided himself for being silly, especially when he considered the fact that his being at the Weasleys' would put them in serious danger from Voldemort. He didn't think he could bear it if any member of that family got hurt because of him. Not like--

_Oh, for Merlin's sake!_ Harry thought to himself, irritated. _Can't I just put that out of my mind for five whole minutes?_

There was really only one thing left to do, he supposed. The letter from Fudge -- _that miserable, blind, incompetent git_ -- had indicated that Dumbledore was expecting a response. Somehow, Harry doubted that was the case, but it was something. Of course, he thought, an odd sort of glee twisting in the back of his mind, he'd have to remember to owl Fudge back to inform him of his 'gratitude.' And suddenly, he wanted to owl Sirius and let him know about the change in plans. Yes. Writing letters was a good way to pass time. He'd have to wait for Hedwig to return to send them, of course, which would leave him with plenty of time to work out everything he needed - _wanted_ - to say in the letters. _Particularly to Fudge,_ he thought darkly.

His hands stilled. Something about the way his mind was working disturbed him a little bit. True, he had no fondness for the Minister of Magic, but he couldn't remember feeling... well... _malicious_ towards him. Not before the Thir- before that day. It twisted in his gut, remembering the condescending way the Minister had treated him in the Hospital Wing, the way the fury had just built up inside him until it exploded in a roar. Okay, so perhaps his words had been rather rash, and certainly less censored than they might ordinarily have been; he _had_, after all, been suffering from the aftershocks of the Cruciatus Curse. But _damn_, it had felt good to do that!

Now _why_ had he reacted like that? Stress? Residue pain? Intense frustration? Fear-turned-anger? Combination? Harry felt his lips twitch in amusement. When had he gotten so analytical? He'd probably always been like this, and it was merely surfacing more now that he was dealing with... well, his 'destiny,' for lack of a better word. That realisation made him feel both sad for the loss of what little innocence he'd still had, but also rather relieved that this _wasn't_ a side-effect of... that night. _Besides, Fudge had that coming to him. If not from me, certainly from Dumbledore and Snape!_

With a decidedly hearty mood, Harry once again delved under the loose floorboards to retrieve parchment, quills, and ink. He had letters to write.

To be continued...


	5. Four

**Title:** Family Affair

**Author:** Daeleniel Shadowphyre

**Feedback:** darkone2813 at mindspring dot com

**Fandom:** "Harry Potter" series, by J.K. Rowling

**Genre:** Angst/Drama

**Rating:** R (Maybe only PG-13, but R is safer.)

**Notes:** Please reference the prologue for the summary, disclaimer, and any other relevant information. In addition, Remus Lupin's living state has been something of varying theories, ranging from intense poverty to outlandish riches. I preferred to settle for the middle ground. Thus, Remus's financial state -- like his middle name -- is of my creation. And yes, I will explain the cabin.

**Distribution:** Ask, and ye shall receive.

**Chapter Four:**

_August 1, 1999_

_Lupin Estate, East Wing_

In the soft light of pre-dawn morning, Remus Jarrett Lupin stirred awake and slowly opened his eyes. Almost immediately, he squeezed his eyes shut, flinching away from the pale light streaming through the curtains. His whole body ached, a testimony of his transformation from human to wolf and again to human three nights before. It had been one of the worst transformations he'd gone through, and not even the presence of his old friend Sirius Black had been able to keep him from going crazy from the pain. Even the Wolfsbane potion -- 'mysteriously' delivered by an annonymous post owl every month -- had been slow to act upon him, drawing his human mind back from behind the wolf.

The entire episode had left him shaken, in more ways than one. The last time it had been that bad had been the night two days before James and Lily were killed. Like this time, it had taken him three days to recover from the ripping agony. By the time he'd been well enough to leave his Estate, it was too late. His friends, the people he loved, were dead, and Sirius had just been arrested.

Remus grimaced and forced his eyes open to stare at the ceiling of his bedroom. He was still kicking himself for believing in Sirius's guilt. Even if Sirius had learned the truth surrounding not only Harry's birth, but Lily and James' marriage, he wouldn't have betrayed them all to Voldemort in a fit of pique. Flown off the handle, sure, probably even gone after Severus with a muggle kitchen knife, certainly ranted and raved for a few hours. Never betrayal.

Speaking of Sirius...

With a groan at his protesting joints and muscles, the werewolf levered himself up to a sitting position and swung his legs carefully around and over the side of the bed. Cautiously, he set his feet on the floor, testing to see how much feeling he had in his extremities. Well, he could feel the floor; it was cold. Remus shifted the rest of his weight onto his feet and stood up. _Okay, standing? No problem. Now, let's try walking._

One step away from the bed. _Ow..._ His muscles weren't too happy with that, but the pain was different from the usual you've-just-overworked-yourself-stupid-pup pain. This was the less-familiar you've-just-had-a-workout-that-you-stopped-at-peak-and-didn't-cool-down-stupid-boy kind of pain. He could deal with that; just take it slow, stretch a little, easy there... He reached the door. Hand on the door handle, Remus took a deep, calming breath and, opening the door, stepped warily out into the hallway.

"Remus!"

Ah, and there was the proof of the day! Remus unconsciously braced himself as Sirius Black himself came into view. The expression on the other man's face was a strange conglomerate of haunted bleakness, jubilant elation, and gut-twisting concern. It made Remus dizzy for a moment trying to read that on the face of the man he thought of as his brother. Leaning against the wall to steady himself, Remus summoned up a smile for his old partner-in-pranks.

"You're up early," he commented, raising an eyebrow. Sirius grinned sheepishly at his friend.

"Your ruddy owl woke me," the black-haired man grumbled good-naturedly. Remus had to smile. Calia was not the most patient of owls, and had taken Sirius's arrival into her master's house with much commentary. Knowing how badly this most recent transformation had effected Remus, she must have decided to wake Sirius with the mail this morning.

"I'll talk to her about it," Remus said. It wouldn't do any good, of course, but then, Sirius didn't know that. Then, curiosity getting the better of him, he asked, "What was the mail?"

"Letters," Sirius replied, shrugging. "There's one from Albus, another from Snape--" here, Sirius spat the name like a curse; Remus winced, but said nothing, "--a couple from Harry, and a few that I don't recognize the writing." Remus chuckled.

"Well, then, by all means, let me hobble on down to the sitting room and we'll have breakfast at the same time," he said, starting off down the hall in the direction of the East Wing's sitting room. He kept a hand on the wall to steady himself and by the time he and Sirius had reached the sitting room, he was walking normally again.

Breakfast was waiting on the coffee table in the sitting room, as it always was, and Remus silently blessed Zizi for her unwavering loyalty to him all these years. The house-elf had been his constant companion during the full moons before his Hogwarts days, and during the summers before Sirius, James, and-- and Peter. Before his friends had mastered the Animagus spell and joined him there. Now, nearly thirty-one years after that first horrible transformation, Zizi was still with him, the last house-elf left in the huge estate. Speaking of...

"Thanks for bringing me back," Remus said as he sat down in his favorite chair next to the coffee table. Sirius grinned at him, a tad warily but a grin nonetheless, and sat down in the chair opposite his friend.

"Well, as wonderful as that cabin of yours is for isolation, it's not exactly up to snuff for human comforts," he remarked, only a little caustically, then teased, "Something I'm sure you'd be needing in your old age."

"Old age be hanged!" Remus declared airily. "I'm thirty-five, which is as young as I'll ever be again." Sirius stared at him, then abruptly burst out laughing. A full laugh, Remus noticed smugly, with no hint of shadows behind it.

"Merlin's toes, Moony!" the Animagus gasped. "Only you would use that kind of logic!" Remus blushed faintly, but shook his head.

"Mr. Moony must disabuse Mr. Padfoot of this notion," he said, grinning wickedly, "as Mr. Moony first heard this line of logic expressed by Albus Dumbledore."

"That just figures," Sirius said around his sniggers. "Dumbledore will outlive all of us, I just know it!"

"You never did have a talent for Divination," Remus teased, ducking as Sirius mock-swung at him. More seriously, Remus went on, "Albus is mortal, Siri, as much as we'd like to believe otherwise. His concept of mortality is very different from the mainstream idea, however, and I'd bet part of the reason he's still alive is that he's having too much fun to die. Not to mention the disappointed look on Lucius Malfoy's face every time Dumbledore survives, and Severus is the same way."

Sirius gave a derisive snort at the idea of Severus Snape being compared to the beloved Headmaster of Hogwarts. "That greasy git would stand at Death's door, only to turn around and keep living just to spite everyone that wants him dead."

"Lucky for you he did the first time, or you'd be out a friend," Remus retorted, but without malice. He'd long since made his peace with what Sirius had done and what had almost happened. _Lily could have lost her boyfriend. And James could have lost his mate. Not that Sirius ever knew that,_ Remus thought to himself, briefly wondering if it would have been better for Sirius to have known. It certainly hadn't helped the already tense relations between Severus, James, and himself. A minor miracle was that those same relations weren't terribly set back from the event, as Severus himself had proved the morning Remus had woken up...

_Remus groaned as the sunlight hit his eyes, jolting him into full awakeness. Immediately, his entire body sent up a clamouring protest at its recent mistreatment and the young werewolf had to fight down the urge to drag his pillow over his face. Wait. Pillow?_

_Steeling himself, Remus forced his eyes open to look around. The sight of white screens and smooth stone greeted his eyes. The Infirmary, then. His brows snapped together. Then how had he gotten there? He turned his head to the side carefully and spotted the answer, slumped over and asleep in the chair next to his bed, glasses hanging precariously from the tip of the nose of the much-beloved boy. James Potter's hair was messier than usual and he looked a little the worse for wear. Even in his sleep, the tension didn't leave his solid Chaser's body. Remus's frown grew more pronounced. What the bloody hell had happened!_

_"He hasn't left your side since he brought you in," a voice said from the doorway. "At this rate, he'll miss all his classes."_

_"I keep telling him he's an idiot," Remus answered, feeling decidedly lightheaded. The voice had sparked memory in him. The memory of those precious few seconds before he was completely a wolf, and the horrifying sight of Severus Snape's fear-filled face before the world had faded away in the face of the wolf. Inanely, he added, "He never listens to me, of course. Just keeps staying here, refusing to leave until I'm awake, or so Madam Pomfrey says. She's fair vexed with him for it, too, but she never runs him off..." Remus trailed off, aware that he was babbling. He felt his eyes burn and he squeezed them shut, taking a shuddering breath before whispering, "Merlin, I'm so, so sorry, Severus."_

_"Oh, for Salazar's sake!" Severus snapped. "It was hardly your fault, any of it. As it is, James got me out of there without a scratch, you're clear of any possible charges, and the very worst that could happen is that I'll have nightmares for the rest of my natural life." Ooh, that was _not _reassuring. Remus groaned and collapsed back against the pillow, wincing as the almost violent movement jarred his recently inflicted wounds. Merlin, but the Ministry would have a field day! Dumbledore could get fired for this! And that wasn't even touching on what the Ministry would do to Remus himself!_ No, they can't kill me, they can't, it would shatter James, they can't kill me, they--

_Remus's eyes flew open as he felt the hospital bed dip. Severus stared back at him from his new position next to Remus on the bed. His face was impassive, eyes calm, and when Remus glanced down, he found that the other boy's hands were steady. He sniffed involuntarily, then abruptly backed away, pressing his back against the metal rods of the hospital bed's headboard._

_"You're afraid of me," he whispered, horrified. Severus made a move to deny it, but Remus just repeated stubbornly, "You are! I can smell it." Disgusted with himself, he looked away, turning his face further away from James and squeezing his eyes shut, as if denying himself the sight of his mate would protect the other boy from the danger he was in by associating with a... a _monster.

_Severus, on the other hand, was having none of that. Remus heard him move, but it still shocked him when he felt the cool, slightly dry touch of the Slytherin's hand on his jaw, the pressure that turned him back towards Severus._

_"Look at me," Severus commanded, his voice rough and a little husky. Remus shivered involuntarily at the deep tones that hinted at a barritone rumble in the boy's adulthood. His eyes reluctantly opened to meet Severus's own dark eyes. Not black, he noticed absently, but very dark blue mixed with a kind of charcoal gray. Severus sighed. "I'm not afraid of you, Remus," he said. "Not as you are now. I took the same classes you did, and I know you're currently only as dangerous as you want or need to be. So it happens that for one night out of twenty-eight you run on four feet instead of two and have a taste for a different sort of... game. The rest of the time, you're the same irritating, quiet, studious Gryffindor that most of the teachers dote on._

_"I admit that I do feel a certain amount of fear on that one night out of twenty-eight, and most assurredly it was more pronounced last night than it has been in a... very long time. But you have to understand that I've been terrified of werewolves in their transformed state ever since I was seven."_

_Remus felt his eyes widen to what felt like the size of dinner plates. In response, Severus let go of Remus's jaw and dropped his hand to his arm where he began fumbling with the cuff of his shirt-sleeve. It took a bit, but he finally got the button undone and shoved the sleeve up his arm, nearly to his armpit. Remus flinched at the sight of the four deep-looking scars that chased diagonal lines across Severus's upper arm. A second look proved that the scars were most definitely made by the claws of a very large, adult werewolf, which made Remus cringe all the more. But what really made him tremble was the third, final review of those scars that looked almost -- but not quite -- as old as the silver-white bite mark that adorned Remus's shoulder just above his collar bone._

_"Five," he blurted out, swallowing convulsively as his eyes moved from those four scars to Severus's eyes and back. "I was five when I was bitten. The werewolf-- Merlin, she was only nineteen! She hadn't known we'd be there camping, she'd just Apparated to the most likely abandoned area farthest away from people and..." Remus trailed off, aware that he was babbling. Severus was silent for a moment, eyes fixed on a point just past Remus's left ear._

_"There's a very good reason why I don't fear werewolves when it's not a full moon," he said at length. "No one else in my family understands why, but I guess they let what they were taught get in the way of blood ties." His voice was bitter, and Remus reached out and touched Severus's hand before he could stop himself. The Slytherin flinched at the contact and Remus hastily pulled his hand back, but the other boy just smiled wryly. "Your hands are cold."_

_"Sorry," Remus said, ducking his head with a slightly sheepish smile. Then something Severus had said echoed in his mind and he asked, "Blood ties?"_

_"Mmhm," Severus said, nodding, a sad look flickering through his eyes. "My favorite uncle was staying with us that week. Well," he amended, "I'd always liked Uncle Ulrich, even if the rest of the family didn't. But he was my mother's brother, so Father had no say in it. So that night, Mum told all of us kids to stay inside and not go sneaking out to the woods around the manor once it got dark. Augustus -- my older brother -- dared me to go outside, even though Mum said not to, and I really was curious about what could be out there, and... well, I was only seven." Severus flushed, apparently having realised that he was babbling more than Remus had earlier. "Mum rescued me. Stupified him. I was grounded for as long as it took these--" he inclined his head towards his arm, indicating the scratches, "--to heal. Uncle Ulrich was horrified when he woke up next morning with my blood under his fingernails." He laughed a little, but there was no humour in it. Remus reached out and touched his hand again. Severus flinched, but caught Remus's hand in his and gave it a brief squeeze._

_"So, how did you get to the Shack, anyway?" Remus asked as they let go, turning the conversation away from such personal ground and onto a question that had been subconsciously eating at him since I woke up._

_"Black," Severus growled, his eyes hard. "He told me that Lily wanted to meet me there, and that there was a secret passage under the Whomping Willow. I was an idiot for trusting him, since I knew full well that he despises me and was sure there had to be some sort of catch in the Shack, since he'd told me how to get past the Willow. But..." Severus clenched his eyes shut, his hands curling into fists._

_Remus gaped at Severus. The emotions rolling off of the Slytherin were so strong that he didn't even have to consciously scent him to know how he was feeling. Rage. Hurt. Fear. An odd conglomerate of emotions that started with sorrow and ended in hatred. And then it caught up to him what he was being told. Sirius, his friend, his brother, his _packmate_-- He had been the one to send Severus down the tunnel to the Shack in Hogsmeade, knowing full well that it was a full moon and Remus would be there in his transformed, _man-eating _state! The betrayal stabbed at him like a silver knife, fueling his own rage and kicking his senses into high gear. Inside his mind, the wolf that he had been scarcely hours before howled for blood._

_"I shall kill him."_

_The growled words that pushed themselves out of his throat were almost inhuman with the fury behind them. This wasn't quiet, studious Remus Lupin talking, not entirely. Moony was right there with him, and the betrayal from a packmate had obviously enraged the wolf as much as the boy. Dimly, he smelled the fear in the room spike to a staggering level, then--_

_Strong hands gripped his shoulders. Severus's cold, dark eyes bore into Remus's rage-fired gold. "Stop it," he snapped, that deep teenaged voice going even deeper with his intensity. "Don't jeopardize your life over this. Just how do you suppose James would feel if after all that's been done to keep you _out _of the Ministry's hands you thoughtlessly jump right back in?"_

_It was like a bucket of ice-water being tossed over him. Remus felt his eyes go wide with horror at what he'd almost let the wolf do. If he'd-- But Sirius-- Sirius was his _friend_! Why would he do something like this, use him like this? Why? He didn't register when exactly he started to shake, or when the tears began sliding down his cheeks. Something in Severus's eyes softened, and suddenly Remus was being held with Severus murmuring soothingly into his ear. The werewolf clung to that rock of stability, burying his face in Severus's robes._

_"Too soon," he whispered hoarsly into the black cloth of the student robe. "It's too close to the full moon. The wolf is too near the surface. Sweet Merlin, Siri, _why

_"As far as I can tell," Severus said cautiously as he rubbed circles on Remus's back, "he thought he was acting in everyone's best interest."_

_"How, exactly, is trying to get you _killed _by using _me _acting in everyone's best bloody interest?" Remus choked out._

_"I doubt he realised what it meant to send someone off to you in your transformed state," Severus said, a little disdainfully. "He certainly gave that impression in the Headmaster's office." Remus pulled back and gaped at the Slytherin._

_"What? How could he not know?" he demanded. "I turn into a bloody werewolf, not some overgrown puppy!" Severus arched an eyebrow at him._

_"I don't want to know," he said decidedly. "However, as to why he wouldn't make the connection, that's fairly simple. You, Remus Lupin, are one of Sirius Black's best friends. You're quiet, studious, and a part-time prankster. You'd never do anything to hurt anybody unless they hurt you first, correct?"_

_"Well, yes, but that's meaningless when I'm a wolf," Remus pointed out, beginning to calm down in spite of himself. "You know that."_

_"But I don't think Black knows it," Severus said. "Not fully, anyway. Oh, intellectually, he knows all about it. But there's still that part of his mind that thinks of Remus Lupin and doesn't make the connection." He gave a wry half-smirk. "Let us also not forget that the bastard is only sixteen, like the rest of us. Rather careless and often thoughtless of consequences. Cruel, as teenaged boys often are."_

_"You know," Remus said, looking at Severus with a shrewd glance, "that sounds a lot like an attempt at rationalisation. Are you trying to convince _me_, or _yourself_?" Severus snorted. Then, to Remus's shock, a small, real smile pulled at the Slytherin's lips. For a dizzying moment, Remus could see more of just what Lily saw in the reserved, brilliant Potions student._

_"Both, I think," Severus replied lightly, letting go of his hold around Remus's shoulders. Then more seriously he added, "I have never liked Black, just has he has never liked me. There's been bad blood between the two of us for much longer than we've been at Hogwarts, and it runs so deep that I think it would take a miracle to root it out." He closed his eyes and bowed his head in regret, then looked back up at Remus. "However, whether I like him or despise him has no bearing on the fact that he is one of your best friends and, careless as he is now, he's no less a true friend. True friends are rare -- Merlin knows _I _can count my friends on one hand, all the less true friends -- and I'd rather not see you lose yours._

_"There is also," Severus continued, "the matter of his long-standing friendship with James over there. I understand that you and James are... close..."_

_"As close if not closer than you and Lily," Remus confirmed, answering the unspoken question. "He's my mate."_

_"Then all the greater the conflict if you estrange yourself from Black," Severus pointed out, showing no surprise over the pronouncement of the two boys' intimate relationship. He sounded so calm and reasonable, Remus could almost believe that he'd really put aside his dislike for Sirius in this attempt to save the friendship between him and Remus. "Pushing Black away would, however unwittingly, force James to choose between the boy he loves like a brother and you, who he loves like the lover and life-partner you are."_

_"Mm," Remus nodded. "I wouldn't ever want to put him in that kind of position. And speaking of which..." Remus turned his head and addressed the bespectacled boy in the chair. "You can stop pretending to be asleep, now, Jimmy."_

_"How?" James Potter demanded as he opened his eyes to Severus's smirk and Remus's fond smile. "How in Merlin's name did you know I was awake?" Remus raised an eyebrow at his friend and mate._

_"James," he said seriously, "we've shared a dorm for almost six years, this past year including a shared bed. My hearing is better than average, and those circumstances are more than enough to make very sure I'd know how you sound when you're asleep!"_

_James blushed bright red. This appeared to amuse Severus, because the Slytherin startled both Gryffindors by chuckling outright. It was the first time either of them had heard him laugh. Shaking his head slightly, James pushed himself out of the chair and crossed to the bed, waving Severus down when he made to get up. Instead, James knelt down beside the bed and caught one of Remus's hands in his._

_"Remy," James said earnestly, looking up into his mate's face, "I need you to understand something. Sirius has been like my brother for years, yes, but you're my mate! My other half, the completion of my soul. If it ever came down to a choice between you and him, he'd lose."_

_"I don't want to put you in the position of having to choose, Jimmy," Remus said, shaking his head. James made a face._

_"I know," he said. "But right now, I'm so mad at Sirius...! I don't know how you kept yourself from hexing him, Severus," he added, turning to the Slytherin. Severus shook his head, looking just a little bemused._

_"To be honest, neither do I," he said frankly. James laughed, but there was little mirth behind it._

_"Remy," he said again, turning to his mate. "I know we've all four of us've been practically inseperable since First Year and you're probably going to forgive Sirius before even I do... but damn it, make him _work _for it!"_

_"Believe me," Remus said, baring his teeth in a mirthless, wolf-like grin, "I intend to." Severus shivered involuntarily, but still smirked at the pair._

_"Well, if that's all settled, then," he drawled, rising from the bed, "I've to get on to Charms. And I believe you two have Transfiguration," he added pointedly. James snorted and waved this away, unconcerned._

_"I'm top of the class; McGonagall won't care if I skip," James pushed his glasses up farther, looking concerned. "Are you going to be okay?" Severus blinked, obviously taken aback by the question._

_"Yes, of course," he answered, nonplussed. He made as if to leave, then hesitated. "I suppose I should thank you. You saved my life, James."_

_"Jimmy," James said solemnly. Severus blinked. The bespectacled boy ducked his head and smiled a little sheepishly. "I heard that bit about true friends, Severus. All my true friends call me Jimmy."_

_"And mine call me Remy," Remus added, a grin tugging at his lips as he saw the shocked realisation dawn on Severus's face. "We'd like it if you called us by those names."_

_Severus stared at them both for a long moment, his face blank, eyes veiled and dark so that they truly looked black. He was so still that after a moment Remus began to wonder if he was even breathing. And then, wonder upon wonders, Severus's lips curved upwards into another of those small, shy smiles._

_"Okay," he said, his voice soft and a little hesitant. "Then I suppose you two should call me Sev."_

"But you forgave me for the Shack Incident," Sirius was saying as Remus snapped himself back out of his memories. The werewolf raised an eyebrow at his friend, but didn't reply, instead turning to take the breakfast tray from Zizi with a quiet "thanks" and a smile. Zizi smiled back and hurried off, leaving Remus and Sirius alone. Sirius, meanwhile, was beginning to sweat. "Remus," he said pensively, "you _did_ forgive me for that... right?"

That stopped Remus short. The fear in Sirius's voice as he said that... did he really not remember? Had Azkaban taken so much from his friend? Understanding softened Remus's features, and he smiled reassuringly at Sirius.

"Yes, I did, Siri," he assured the other man as he set the tray on the coffee table between them. "James and I both forgave you." He poured himself and Sirius a cup of tea, then settled back into his chair while Sirius started in on breakfast. He waiting for a moment, then added mischievously, "You might want to thank Severus for that sometime."

Sirius choked on his sausage. "What!" he gasped, coughing. "Thank _Snape_! _Why_, for Godric's sake!"

"Because," Remus said casually, his tone light but face serious, "you rather owe him your life. Severus was the one who talked me out of hunting you down and ripping your throat out for that stunt." Sirius turned very pale. His mouth worked, but no sound emerged. Remus calmly sipped his tea, picking up one of the letters. Severus's, he noted, recognising the neat, precise script. He opened it and began to read, making a mental note to thank Zizi for sending off the letters he had prepared for Severus and Albus. The reminder appeared to have been unnecessary, but one could never be too cautions about this.

There was no response from across the coffee table. Remus glanced up at Sirius, then down at the plate in his friend's lap. "Your breakfast is getting cold."

Sirius looked warily at his friend, but did start eating again. As his temporary housemate devoured the remainder of his food, Remus set about reading the rest of his post. As he came across bits of interest, he read them aloud to Sirius, who gradually began to relax again. One of the letters from Harry turned out to be for Sirius, who read it eagerly. He dropped it, however, when Remus -- who had picked up and opened one of the letters whose handwriting Sirius didn't recognize -- let out a startled oath.

"What?" Sirius asked, alarmed. "What's wrong? Who's it from?" Remus swallowed. Hard.

"I'm not sure," he said in a surprisingly calm voice. He scanned the letter, and blinked, his mouth dropping open from shock. Going back, he re-read the letter to himself, more slowly.

_Dear Remus,_

_I wish that the circumstances under which I am writing were different, but we both know that it would take nothing less than an emergency for me to risk contacting anyone in the wizarding world again. According to both Albus and my nephew, You-Know-Who is back. My husband, being a muggle, doesn't understand the gravity of the situation and is continuing on as he always has, which has not been good for Harry. I've done my best to hold him off without arousing any suspicion that I care about Harry, but I can only do so much._

_It's getting steadily worse, however. The further along Harry gets at Hogwarts, the more he learns and grows, the angrier Vernon gets. Not even a mention of Harry's godfather will be likely to stop him if he gets it into his head to try and beat the "unnaturalness" out of Harry. There's a new office assistant at Grunnings that's been giving Vernon... ideas._

_I've sent an owl to Albus informing him of this. However, if he isn't able to do anything... I want you to come for him. He'll be safer with you, potion or no potion, than he would be in the same house as Vernon. Please, Remus. There's not much love lost between me and my nephew, but he is still Lily's son._

_Sincere regards,_

_Petunia E. Dursley_

To be continued...


	6. Five

**Title:** Family Affair

**Author:** Daeleniel Shadowphyre

**Feedback:** darkone2813 at mindspring dot com

**Fandom:** "Harry Potter" series, by J.K. Rowling

**Genre:** Angst/Drama

**Rating:** R (Maybe only PG-13, but R is safer.)

**Notes:** Please reference the prologue for the summary, disclaimer, and any other relevant information.

**Distribution:** Ask, and ye shall receive.

**Chapter Five:**

_August 1, 1999_

_Hogwarts, Severus Snape's Chambers_

With considerable relief, Severus allowed himself to sink into his favorite chair before the fire in his sitting room. The Wolfsbane potion was finished, cooled and preserved, and now sat bottled in a specially spelled cupboard to await the arrival of Remus Lupin. Severus reminded himself yet again to discuss with Remus the possibility of refinement of the potion during the remainder of the summer and what free moments there would be during the coming school year. When he wasn't spending time with his son, of course.

Severus went very still in his chair. His son. There was always the possibility that Harry would find the idea of spending time with Severus appalling. In fact, it was more than likely, considering how Severus had treated him during all four years of his schooling at Hogwarts. Harry would be perfectly within his rights to wish to have nothing to do with him.

Rather like those Ministry bastards had tried to make him want nothing to do with his uncle all those years ago...

_Seven year old Severus groaned as the sunlight hit his eyes. He didn't know how long he'd been asleep, but it was most likely too long if the sun hurt. He couldn't really remember how he got back to the house, but he did remember the woods... and his mother... and the wolf._

_The wolf!_

_Sev sat up quickly, biting his lip at the stab of pain that went through his arm. His mother had saved him from the wolf, but... was the wolf okay? There had been something very familiar about the wolf, even when it was clawing at him. That had hurt. But he didn't want the wolf to be hurt. Sev had read about wolves, and he knew that if the wolf had attacked him like that, then it was his fault for getting it the way. The wolf couldn't help it._

_As if summoned with a spell, Sev's Mother was there. She sat on the edge of the bed and took her son into her arms, being careful of the arm that hurt. Sev buried his face in her robes, then pulled back and looked up at her._

_"Mother?" he asked, peering up into her face and seeing the red around her vivid blue eyes. Mother had been crying? He bit his lower lip. "Mother... is the wolf okay?"_

_The reaction he got stunned him. Mother promptly burst into tears, and Sev had tried everything his scared mind could think of to calm her. Brokenly, Mother had told him of how his Uncle Rich had turned into a wolf on the night of the full moon. She scolded him through her tears for going out after she had "expressly forbidden any of you children from leaving the Manor!" Sev sat silent through this, thinking. He knew from what he had heard his Father say before that people who turned into wolves on the full moon were called werewolves. Father also said that werewolves were evil monsters that ate people, and made other werewolves by biting people. His Uncle Rich was a werewolf?_

_"Was that Uncle Rich last night? On the inside?" he asked in a timid voice. Mother looked at him curiously, then she did something that surprised Sev. She smiled at him, and hugged him tight._

_"No, poppet," Mother said softly. "When a werewolf transforms, they aren't the humans they are the rest of the time. The wolf takes over. Your Uncle Rich was still in there, I'm sure, but he could do nothing to stop the wolf from hurting you."_

_Sev nodded and went back to thinking. That fit better with what he had read in the library after hearing Father shouting about werewolves. Father thought that all werewolves were evil and bad and should be killed. Sev snorted; Father also thought that Sev's liking of books was foolish, but Sev knew better. Books held stuff he didn't know. If he read the books, he knew the stuff in them. He liked knowing things._

_He also liked Uncle Rich._

_"Can I see him, Mother?" he asked suddenly. He was sorry he had asked when the tears came back to Mother's eyes._

_"No, poppet," she said, her voice thick. "Not yet. He's gone to the Ministry to re... report the a-attack." Sev looked at his Mother, shocked._

_"Will he get in trouble?" he asked fearfully. At his Mother's nod, he asked, "Will... will they h-hurt him?"_

_"I don't know, poppet," she whispered, tears flowing down her cheeks, matching the twin streams that were coming from his own eyes. "I just don't know."_

_--+--_

_It was two months before the Ministry let Uncle Rich go. Sev had made Mother promise to get Uncle Rich back to the Manor as soon as he was free; he had to assure himself that his uncle was okay._

_It wasn't a fun day. A stuck-up man from the Ministry came first with his Mother to talk to Sev. They were arguing when they got to Sev's room. Sev took one look at the man -- whose name was apparently Auror Fudge -- and didn't like him. As he listened to the fight, he began to like him even less._

_"--that the boy hasn't been contaminated, Regina!" the Auror was saying. Sev sucked in his breath. Nobody but family was allowed to call Mother by her first name! This man wasn't family!_

_"You will address me as Lady Snape, Fudge," Mother commanded the man, and Sev drew back a little at the coldness in his Mother's voice. That was his Mother's "rage voice" that she used when Father made her really angry. "And do you honestly think I wouldn't know if my son was a werewolf?" Sev's eyes widened; they were talking about him!_

_"You've harbored a werewolf before," Fudge snarled. Severus scowled at the man; he really didn't like him. Unfortunately, the man decided that the argument was over and turned, seeing Sev. He put on a big smile, which didn't fool Sev for a moment. "Hello, you must be Severus! How are you today?"_

_Sev sneered at the man like he'd seen Father do to people he didn't like, then looked away. He wasn't going to talk to such a bad man. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mother put a hand over her mouth to hide a smile. Fudge, on the other hand, looked mad for a moment, but then covered it with another smile that looked very fake and very out of place on the man._

_"Well, then, let's just get this business over with, shall we?" he said in a fake cheery tone. He took something from his pocket and held it out to Sev. "Go on, hold out your hand, lad."_

_Sev eyed the thing mistrustfully. He could see now that it was a necklace of some sort with a charm in the shape of a muggle cross. The metal was sort of grey and sort of white, and Sev realised with a start that it was made out of silver. He knew silver hurt werewolves. If this man thought he was a werewolf, then why would he give him silver? He looked questioningly at his Mother._

_"Go ahead, Severus," Mother said, nodding. Sev, however, could see with his sharp eyes that Mother was tense. She was looking at the necklace with a mad look, like she couldn't stand the sight of it. And at the same time, she looked... sad? That made him even more wary. Still, his Mother had said it was okay. Scowling at Fudge, he slowly reached out a hand and took the necklace._

_As soon as he did, Fudge let go of the chain, leaving Sev holding the necklace by himself. All at once, strange feelings began to wash over him. He couldn't understand what they were, but he knew they were mad feelings, fear feelings. Later in his life, he would understand that these feelings were hate, revulsion, disgust, and terror. For now, he just knew that they were things he should not feel. Bad feelings. And they all seemed to be directed at werewolves. He could feel the tingle of magic reaching up from the necklace to get at him._

NO! _Severus clenched his jaw tight and pushed the feelings away with his mind like Mother had taught him to do with strange magic. The bad man was trying to put a spell on him! He wanted to spell Sev into not liking werewolves like his Uncle! He shoved the magic away, hard! Glaring at the man, he tossed the necklace to the ground at Fudge's feet._

_"I'm not a werewolf," he spat, the venom in his voice directed solely at the bad man in front of him. This seemed to please the man, though, which made Severus scowl even more. The sound of Mother clearing her throat distracted him._

_"Your Uncle Rich is here, Severus," she said in a neutral tone. Sev felt his heart light up with joy at the thought of seeing his beloved Uncle Rich again. After this idiot, he needed to see his Uncle. Uncle Rich always cheered him up._

_"Good," he said, sneering again at the man. _You can't spell me, _he thought furiously at the man. Turned to Mother, he said, "Please, can we go see him now?"_

_Mother stared at him for a long time with a funny look on her face. Then she smiled faintly and nodded. "Yes, poppet, we can go see him now." The sound of the name Mother liked to call him cheered him even more. She was happy with him! Still conscious of the bad man in the room, Sev edged around him and took Mother's hand, pulling her out of the room._

_Fudge followed._

_Uncle Rich was standing in the sitting room, being watched by Father. Sev's eyes widened in shock. Uncle Rich looked like he hadn't slept at all since he'd left, and there was a big bruise on the side of his face. Father was sneering at him, which seemed to make Uncle Rich draw in on himself. Like he wanted to disappear. Well, Sev wasn't going to let him disappear!_

_"Uncle Rich!" he cried happily and ran to his uncle. Uncle Rich spun around at Sev's words, his eyes going wide in shock, and before he could say anything Sev flung his arms around the man and hugged him. Uncle Rich stiffened in his arms, but Sev only hugged him tighter. After what seemed like hours, his uncle finally, carefully, put him arms around Sev and hugged him back._

_"Get your filthy paws off my son!" Father roared. Uncle Rich jumped and tried to pull away, but Sev hung on, turning his head to glare at Father._

_"Don't you talk to Uncle Rich like that!" he shouted. Father's face twisted into anger, and Sev was momentarily afraid that he would strike him. But Father made himself calm down and speak to Sev in a normal voice._

_"Severus, he's a werewolf," Father said. "A dark creature. Dangerous. Now, I am your father and I want what's best for you. Step away from the monster before it hurts you."_

_Rage flared up inside Sev at those words, along with some of the feelings that the necklace had made him feel. Only they weren't directed at werewolves this time-- they were directed at his Father._

_"Uncle Ulrich," Sev hissed, pronoucing the difficult name firmly in his intensity, "is a he, not an it. He's not a monster, he's my uncle. He wouldn't hurt me."_

_"Foolish boy," Father snapped. "He already has! Or have you forgotten what he did to your arm two months ago!"_

_"The wolf did that to me, not Uncle Rich!" Sev snapped back, tightening his hold on the man that had started to tremble at the mention of the healed claw marks on his arm. "Uncle Rich would have stopped the wolf if he could, but he couldn't!"_

_"He _is _the wolf, you pathetic child!" Father roared again._

_"NOT RIGHT NOW HE ISN'T!" Sev bellowed at the top of his seven year old lungs. In the stunned silence that followed, he went on, "Does he look like a wolf right now? Does he have fur? Claws? No! He's human! Right now, Uncle Rich is in control, not the wolf. The wolf only has control on the full moon--"_

_"Which is when your uncle turns into a blood-thirsty beast," interrupted Fudge from the doorway. Sev turned furious eyes on the Auror, but Fudge kept talking, apparently oblivious to the rising feeling of what an older Severus Snape would recognise as rage in his seven-year-old self. "--so it's really in your best interest to have the monster put down," Fudge said; Sev snapped._

_"Was it in my best interest to try and put a spell on me?" he hissed, eyes flashing at the Auror. "Was it in my best interest -- or the best interest of my family -- to try and control me? To make me feel things you wanted me to feel?" Sev heard Father swear angrily and felt a flare of triumph. If there was one thing his father didn't like, it was people trying to control his family. Auror Fudge had tried to do just that._

_"You tried to spell me!" Sev shouted at the Auror, who by now had turned quite pale. "You tried to make me not like Uncle Rich!" And then suddenly, realisation struck. "You tried to make me hate," he whispered, not wanting to believe. He'd heard his father use that word, but his mother had told him not to use it; that it was a powerful word for very powerful emotions. Right then, he could feel it building in him. Strong, powerful anger, directed not at his uncle... but at Fudge. "You failed," he whispered coldly, tears pricking at his eyes. "You failed to make me hate him. You've made me hate you instead."_

_"I-- no, I--" Fudge stammered, but Sev was no longer listening. He buried his face in his uncle's robes, clinging to the older man -- _the werewolf, _his mind acknowledged -- like a lifeline. Dimly, he could hear Mother and Father ordering Fudge out of their house, to never bother them again over such nonsense. And Uncle Rich was holding him, speaking softly and soothingly in a thick voice, and Sev supposed his uncle was crying, too. And then Mother was there, embracing them both and smiling with relief and joy._

_"Well done, poppet," she murmured into his ear. "You did very well. I'm proud of you, Severus."_

"Severus!"

Severus jerked awake with a start, not quite believing he had fallen asleep. Disoriented, he looked around for the person that had called his name... then focused on the fireplace. Remus Lupin's head and shoulders sat in the fireplace, signs of the recent change in his eyes, worry and anxiety and weary pain chasing themselves across his features.

For a moment, Severus was thrown back in time to the hospital wing after the Shrieking Shack incident, seeing those same signs and emotions on the face of his slightly younger Potions partner. He remembered that, along with the painful memory of the scars his uncle had received at the hands of the ministry, seeing that look on Remus's face had been what had made him bound and determined to keep Remus from going through what Ulrich Delaney had suffered.

"Hm?" Severus mumbled, still half-caught in sleep and memory. "Remy? What is it?"

"Sev, wake up!" Remus said through the fire. From behind Remus came a startled and much-loathed voice, saying incredulously, "You call him _Sev!_"

"Remus has had my permission as well as the right to use that name since our sixth year," Severus snapped, now fully awake. "A right that _you_, Black, have yet to earn." He sat up, sneering beyond Remus's image at Black, who narrowed his eyes.

"What does sixth year have to do with it?" he demanded. Severus snorted. Remus rolled his eyes and looked back over his shoulder.

"Quite a bit, most of which is none of your business, Sirius," the werewolf said shortly. He turned back to Severus. "However, that's not why I'm calling. I just received an owl from Harry's aunt." Severus sat up abruptly.

"An _owl_ from _Petunia Dursley_?" he said incredulously. Remus nodded.

"That was my reaction," he said, then held up the letter. "This is it, and it's rather worrying." He passed it through the fire and Severus took it, skimming the contents, then sitting back in his chair to re-read it, a stunned look on his face.

"Well," he said after a moment. "It seems I must revise my opinion of Lily's sister once again. And my opinion of Vernon Dursley has just dropped radically," he added dryly. "Not that it was very high to begin with."

"Harry sent the two of us owls to say that he'll be staying at Hogwarts for the rest of the summer," Remus added, ignoring Sirius's sarcastic, "What are you telling _him_ for? It's not like _he_ cares a whit."

"Yes, I will be retrieving him tomorrow morning after breakfast," Severus said, completely expressionless. A wicked idea occurred to him and he dropped his eyes to look up at Remus through his lashes. Sending his voice down to resonating levels, he said casually, "Albus happened to mention that he's received a petition with... rather a lot of signatures. To reinstate you as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor." Remus raised an eyebrow in surprise at the sudden change of topic, but his eyes flashed with the same mischeif Severus had seen when they were in school.

"Did he?" the werewolf said, equally as casual. Severus inclined his head in acknowledgement.

"I'm looking forward to... working with you again, Remy," he purred, fighting to keep a grin off his face at the amusement glittering in Remus's golden eyes and the completely flabbergasted look on Sirius Black's face.

"I'm sure it will be... enjoyable... for the both of us," Remus mused, the lids of his eyes dropping half-way as a slow, lazy smile slipping across his lips. Black made a choking noice, which both Severus and Remus outwardly ignored. However, Severus had to excersise every ounce of control he had when Remus, without moving his head, glanced over his shoulder, then rolled his eyes.

"Well, I'd best get back to the workroom," he said instead. "The new batch of Wolfsbane Potion is already... prepared, in anticipation of your arrival."

"You're too good to me, Sev," Remus cooed, crossing his eyes at Black's outraged exclamation. Severus nearly choked with laughter, but the fact that Black could see everything he was doing kept his amusement in check.

_Hmmmm..._

"Quid pro quo, Remy," Severus replied, allowing his face to soften into a fond expression, his lips curving upwards into a gentle smile. Remus blinked, surprised. The surprise turned to amusement as he looked over his shoulder and down, and through the fire, Severus heard the sound of a loud thud. Apparently he'd been correct; the sight of Severus Snape, the Greasy Git, smiling at Remus Lupin was enough to make Sirius Black pass out from shock.

The soft smile on Severus's face turned into a delightedly wicked grin. Remus looked up, amusement writ clear on his features. Severus met Remus's golden eyes with his own dark ones... and both of them burst into fits of snickering.

Severus was still chuckling quietly when he and Remus ended the call, and the fire went blank.

To be continued...


	7. Six

**Title:** Family Affair

**Author:** Daeleniel Shadowphyre

**Feedback:** darkone2813 at mindspring dot com

**Fandom:** "Harry Potter" series, by J.K. Rowling

**Genre:** Angst/Drama

**Rating:** R (Maybe only PG-13, but R is safer.)

**Notes:** Please reference the prologue for the summary, disclaimer, and any other relevant information.

**Special Note:** Hugs and kisses to Ivy for being my 125th reviewer! (Anyone who knows me knows why I like that number.) To the rest of you, all of you rock, really, and thanks for sticking with me-- even if I take forever and a day to post new chapters. ;;;

**Distribution:** Ask, and ye shall receive.

**Chapter Six:**

_August 1, 1999_

_4 Privet Drive, Kitchen_

If there was one thing that Petunia Evans Dursley understood, it was the value of underestimation. People had been underestimating her for years, ever since she was a child. She was a tall woman and might even have been called pretty once upon a time, but the years of illness from the time she was nine until she had been sixteen had kept her rail thin and ravaged her appearance to give her a pinched, pained look and a rather sour expression. Moreover, she tended to look as if a strong wind might just blow her over and therefore automatically registered as harmless to anyone who bothered to look at her, no matter how much hostility she projected.

Petunia liked being underestimated. It wasn't that she wanted to be invisible, oh no, but to be beneath consideration as a threat, that was good, very good. When she'd been younger, being non-threatening had been doubly important. Small, despite her height. Timid, despite her sharp tongue. Occasionally rather dull, despite her thorough education and unfortunate passion for learning.

Weak, despite her wand.

For Petunia Dursley was a witch. It was a secret she guarded closely, all but ignoring magic and the Wizarding World, staying beneath notice, content to live like a muggle with her muggle husband and completely unmagickal son. She couldn't understand why other witches and wizards, other muggleborns, didn't follow her example. Look at her sister Lily. She'd flaunted her magic, lived like the witch she was with her pureblood wizard husband, and she'd been killed by a Dark wizard in her own home! Which, of course, had left Petunia and her husband Vernon to raise Lily's very obviously magickal son.

Harry was a source of considerable vexation for Petunia. The scar on his forehead, his very name even, made him an instant target to any Dark wizard. What's more, he was attending his mother's old school for magic, learning to use his powers and control them instead of just how to hide them. He actually embraced magic, something Petunia simply could not fathom. Didn't he realise that it was magic that had killed his mother, Petunia's little sister? Didn't he understand that magic was a burden, a curse, something better off left alone lest it destroy the one foolish enough to reach for it?

Petunia scowled down at the ham she was slicing for sandwiches. Magic was nothing but trouble. Lily had gone on and on about how wonderful it was to fly; Petunia hated heights, and had been too ill to learn. Lily delighted in changing teacups into frogs; Petunia wanted her teacup to stay a teacup, thank you. Lily loved how wizard photographs moved as if they were alive; Petunia always felt unnerved by the idea that the people in those photographs were watching her. And Lily had been ecstatic over medical spells and how a wave of a wand or a potion could heal anything from paper cuts to broken bones.

Magic hadn't been able to cure Petunia of leukaemia. That had taken years of muggle medicine, treatment after treatment, surgery, procedures that _hurt_...

_Fourteen-year-old Nia opened her eyes and stared up at the ceiling of the hospital ward. It was white. Plain, dull, unrelieved white. If she turned her head to the side, Nia knew that the walls would be that same stark, unblemished white of the ceiling. She closed her eyes again._

_Her body ached, she noticed. Deep down in her bones, she ached. It was a familiar feeling after five years. She knew it baffled her doctors, but she didn't feel like explaining to them that her magic didn't like their treatments and kept trying to fix what they'd done to her. Muggle doctors weren't prepared to handle witches._

_Mediwizards weren't prepared to handle leukaemia._

_Nia sighed at the reminder of her lose-lose situation and opened her eyes again. The ceiling might be boring but staring at it gave her something besides the insides of her eyelids to look at. Absently, she thought about conjuring an illusion to keep her entertained, but dismissed the idea immediately. Not only was it forbidden for her to use magic outside of her scheduled lesson hours in specific settings, but she was in the middle of a muggle hospital and shouldn't be using magic when just any muggle nurse or doctor could come in and see it._

_She wondered when she'd started to get so comfortable with the idea that she could use magic at all. That she had received the letter to Hogwarts at all had been inconceivable, only slightly more comprehensible when her little sister Lily had received her letter._

_Her IV line itched. Nia glared hatefully at the thing, metal and plastic digging into and under her skin to deliver the contents du jour from the drip bag. She assumed from the slightly light-headed feeling she had that it was currently a morphine drip instead of the intravenous nutrients they'd started her on when the nausea got too bad for her to handle solid food._

_Idly she wondered what time it was. She knew it wasn't Sunday, because Mummy and Daddy hadn't brought Lily to visit. Nia didn't know why they bothered. Lily didn't really understand why her older sister didn't seem to be getting better; she was too caught up in the glamour of learning magic. It only upset her to see Nia lying in the bed, pale and thin and shaky. It made her snappish, and Nia responded in kind and they only ended up fighting which, if Nia was being honest, she knew wasn't good for either of them. It wasn't good for their parents, either, and Nia tried to ignore the growing lines of stress and strain in Mummy's face and the bags under Daddy's eyes. The doctors said that she was actually getting better, but a full recovery would take time._

_She had plenty of that, she supposed. Time told by muggle clocks had lost meaning for her with the constant drip-drip of the IV, only really able to tell night from day because the nurses came in to turn the lights on or off. She could count the hours, but that would serve no real purpose except to remind her how long she'd been stuck here between lessons taught by a stern-faced woman with rectangular-lensed spectacles, and treatments heralded by the nurse who would come in to give her a sedative._

_A noise by the door drew a flicker of her eyes. _Right on cue,_ she thought grimly, seeing the white uniform before returning her attention to the ceiling._

_"Time for your treatment, Petunia"' the nurse said as she approached. Petunia didn't respond, just stared up at the ceiling as the nurse fiddled with the IV out of her line of sight. When she felt the trickle of ice flow into her veins, she closed her eyes and gave herself up to the anaesthesia._

_She wasn't going to hold her breath that this would be the cure._

Even now, Petunia wasn't sure just how she had finally been "cured" of the disease. It wasn't even a cure, really, since she knew that if even a few of those malignant cells had survived, the cancer would come back, quite possibly in an untreatable form. Magic couldn't fix that, either.

Yet as much as Petunia resented magic, it was a near-constant presence in her life, the most obvious manifestation being her nephew Harry. It was almost a cruel irony that the epitome of all Petunia wished to avoid was also all she had left of her little sister. She wanted to protect that, to keep what little of her sister was left alive through her son.

It wasn't easy. Harry was determined to follow his parents into the use of magic, and while that determination was... admirable... it set him at odds with Petunia's way of life, drawing unwanted attention. Not just to Harry, but to Vernon and Dudley, and to Petunia herself. Attention was a bad thing, especially for Harry.

Especially for Petunia.

The knife slipped in her grasp, biting into her hand. She gave a faint cry of pain, dropping the knife and pressing her other hand against the bleeding gash. It felt warm and wet and slick and the coppery scent made her want to retch.

_Oh, just this once..._ she thought, hating herself for giving in even as she whispered the words of the spell under her breath. Slowly, more slowly than she remembered, the blood seeped back into her veins as flesh knit together beneath her hand. Moments later, only a thin red line remained of the cut, and even that was rapidly disappearing. Despite herself, Petunia felt the briefest flicker of a smile fight its way onto her face.

"Aunt Petunia?"

Petunia whirled towards the door, wide eyes meeting those of her nephew in shock. His eyes flickered down to her hand, then back up to hers, and she could see a thousand questions brimming in his eyes.

Lily's eyes.

Wonderful; _now_ what was she going to do?

To be continued...


End file.
